Haven • H.S.

1. Stumbling Drunks

Haven- 01

"yeah, the paper and pen were my two best friends 'cause the sad songs understood me..."

Ella.

        Navigating the city of Boston was one of those pre-decided things you'd classify as a struggle.

        Foreigners, tourists, natives, and anyone with a remote reason to be in the city seemed to be here now. Having not visited in years, it was easy for me to forget how busy this city gets. The large brick buildings surrounding me are such a change from where I was 5 hours before, boarding a flight from New York City.

        I settled for calling for a cab, being nearly professional in the act, whistling through my teeth and waving my hands. The cab driver gave me one of those 'wait, really?' faces when I directed him to take me to North campus, Harvard. I gave him back a dull nod, silently asking him to step on it.

        Maybe the nerves were finally kicking in.

        I was able to take in the populace on the sidewalks while I sat in the back seat. My eyes roamed over families, couples and your occasional person who felt it was their duty to show off the latest runway outfit, could be found wandering the streets of Boston.

        The cabbie made a few more turns, many stops, and some occasional grunts of frustration towards the traffic (I had a feeling he did that often with his occupation), and before I knew it we were driving along the gravel road to campus. After paying my over priced fair and hopping out, I walked to the administrative offices to get my dorm paperwork. When I first thought about just getting an apartment in the area, I reevaluated that choice. Somewhere deep in me, I felt like truly going for that ridiculous and seemingly stereotypical college feel. Otherwise known as sharing a dorm with a faceless person.

        Walking atop the sidewalk, I looked around me, taking in the beautiful landscape that surrounds the many Harvard buildings. Even with my distraction, it didn't stop me from being mentally reminded of just how hot Boston gets in August.

        When I walk through the door to the administrative office the blast of air conditioned air hit me and I sighed, grateful. "Name, dear?" the elderly receptionist questioned when I walk up to her mahogany desk.

        "Ella Mason," I replied.

        She took an extraordinarily long time searching for my paper work and I could only supply my impatience with the fact that there are a lot of people attending this college. Which, in turn means a lot of paperwork.

        I was admiring the chic artwork in the office until she finally breathed, "Here you go, if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. Or you could ask anyone on campus... I'm sure they wouldn't mind helping you, since you're new, dear." I nodded along in the right places after she gave me a small stack of papers, thanked her, and walked straight back out into the stuffy air.

        Looking around again, I was genuinely floored by the beauty of this campus. I realized Harvard has it's reputation to fulfill but the immaculate cut bright green grass and freshly planted tulips every corner wasn't what I was expecting. I thought back to every time my mom would show me a picture of the campus online. The pictures didn't nearly do any of this justice, and I find myself thinking about how much I would've loved for my parents to visit.

        The small pain in my chest acquainted with the all too familiar sting in my eyes at the thought of them was easier to deal with than the larger, more detremental feeling I dealt with years ago.